


Promise

by upriserseven



Series: C-53 (or, maybe, Home) [5]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: F/F, yikes this is angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upriserseven/pseuds/upriserseven
Summary: You never really considered the fact that one day, Maria or Monica might not be home when you arrive. But one day it happens and you can’t explain why but a wave of feeling so, so stupid washes over you. It’s afternoon, and maybe Monica’s at school and Maria’s at work, but it’s the first time that they’re not here and you hate it.





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes okay so I haven't posted anything in over a month sorry pals. Life and moving and work and life got in the way. Also this is angsty as heck so I apologise for returning with this, which I have mixed feelings about and is also Sad
> 
> Also, this is the penultimate part of C-53! Last part will be up (hopefully) at the weekend maybe. Also the last part is Not Sad. So if this angsty boi of a part is not your jam, then please remember that I have already promised I will literally never give this family anything other than a happy ending.

You never really considered the fact that one day, Maria or Monica might not be home when you arrive. But one day it happens and you can’t explain why but a wave of feeling so, so stupid washes over you. It’s afternoon, and maybe Monica’s at school and Maria’s at work, but it’s the first time that they’re not here and you hate it.

If you’re honest, it’s a moment or two before you even feel comfortable letting yourself into the house, because it’s been five years now (almost as long as you were gone, you think, almost as long as they thought you were dead and almost as long as you didn’t remember they existed) but you’ve never been in this house without either of them there and you don’t want to invade on their space. You can’t stand outside here all day, though, so you let yourself in with a spare key it takes you twenty minutes to find and try your hardest not to disrupt things or do anything you’re not sure you’re allowed.

Everything about it just feels wrong, really. This is your home but it’s also not your home at all, and you have no rights to it. You find the clothes Maria keeps for you in the bottom drawer of her dresser, and you make yourself a coffee, but you drink it while sitting rigid at the kitchen table and you can’t shake how uncomfortable you are. You felt better, you remember, sitting here five years ago when you had no idea where you were or what you were doing. At least then you had a purpose, a mission. Today, you’re sitting here and you don’t know why.

Last time you were back was for Maria’s birthday, and you’d loved it and you’d been so glad to have made it and spend the time with the most important people in the galaxies, but you’d felt more aware than ever of everything you can’t offer them. You know you weren’t the only one, and you’ve been thinking for the better part of a year about how to talk to Maria about it. You shouldn’t be bothered by the fact that nobody’s home, because you said right from the beginning that they wouldn’t be sitting at home every day waiting for you to land, and you’d never want that for them, but it feels like a painful reminder that you have no idea what their lives really look like when you’re not around and you can’t pinpoint the feeling. Guilt, yes, that you’re not around, but there’s a bitterness to it that you don’t recognise, and it unnerves you.

You’re not sure exactly how long you sit there, but it’s starting to get dark outside and some part of your brain tells you that you should put a light on. It’s only a few steps to the switch, really, but somehow there is so much in that space that catches your attention. There’s photographs, some with you in them even, and there’s a report card on the fridge and symbols of lives lived both with and without you. You worry that if you move out of this room, you’ll break your own heart over and over with the uncertainty plaguing your brain.

You’re standing, tracing Monica’s smile on a photograph, when the front door opens and despite the speed at which your brain is moving, you let out the breath you’ve been holding and turn around just in time to see Maria’s relief that it is, in fact, you in the house and not anyone (or anything) more sinister.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey.” And kissing her is always magic, always has been. Even everything going on in your brain right now can’t change that. Maybe, just maybe, you cling a little too desperately, you keep the kiss going a little longer than you should, because you’ve barely pulled away before she asks you what’s wrong.

“Where’s Monica?”

“At a sleepover. She’ll be home in the morning.” There’s a question in her voice, like she knows Monica will be home tomorrow but she’s not sure if you will be. You want to reassure her, but your voice won’t let you. You want to be excited that you have the evening alone with Maria, you want to be sad that you’re missing out on time with Monica. Instead, all you are is worried. Worried that something is taking you away from these precious moments with your family, worried that you can never be enough for them.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s bugging you, huh? I’m going to make a tea, you want something?”

“Got anything stronger?”

“Can you even get drunk these days?”

You haven’t thought about it, really, but probably not. You’ve never had more than two beers back on C-53, and that would never have been enough, so you’re not sure. Maria comes back with beer anyway, and that first sip is exactly as refreshing as it would’ve been in 1989.

It’s cautious, the way she moves her hand across your shoulders, and when she brings it to rest at the nape of your neck, you’re already crying.

“I’m letting you down.” You’re quiet but you know she hears you, because if there’s one thing in this world you can rely on, it’s Maria Rambeau.

“No, Carol. You’re not.”

“You deserve more, though.” You hadn’t intended to let it all rush out of you. You hadn’t really been planning on crying into your beer, either. “You deserve more than someone who shows up for a weekend every six months or so. Both of you. You deserve to have all of somebody.”

“I’m not going to argue that.”

“So why do you settle for it? For less?”

“Carol.” She’s sighing, but you know it’s out of sadness rather than frustration, so it only hurts a little. “My options are two weekends with you a year, or nothing. And there’s not a chance in hell I’d go for nothing.”

She kisses your temple, and maybe you’re the one who’s superhuman, but Maria is the strongest and greatest person you know. She always has been.

“I love you. I have loved you for a long, long time. Sometimes, sometimes I wish you could be selfish and choose us over everyone you have to help out there. But if you did that, you wouldn’t be the woman I fell in love with.” She’s crying too, but less than you, and you know she’s holding back on purpose. “I wish I didn’t get you part-time. I wish I had you here with me every day, and Monica and I didn’t have to spend our nights wondering when, or _if_ , we’ll see you again. But I can’t imagine spending my time sitting here with you, knowing you could be out saving people. Helping people.”

“You deserve a real partner. Monica deserves a parent. I don’t know if I can ever be that.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know how you can be okay with this.”

“Honestly? I’m not. Every time you come back here it kills me, and I wonder if I should tell you to not come back again.” You don’t blame her, and you’ve had the same thought, but it tears you into pieces and makes you never want to let your feet leave the ground again. “But I will take this over the other options. Nothing I can say will make you feel better, because this is always going to be bullshit and I’m not going to lie and say it isn’t. You’re right. I got the love of my life back and I deserve to get to keep her. Monica deserves to have her Mama here embarrassing her in front of her friends. But I’ll take the pain of you leaving every few months over the pain of you never coming back at all.”

You’re rarely speechless, it’s one of your least favourable qualities (or your greatest, depending who you ask), but you just don’t know how to respond right now, so you let Maria kiss your forehead and you fall into her and keep crying, just a little less than before. You sit there long enough that Maria’s stomach starts to complain and somehow, the rest of the evening falls into your usual routine, but you know that things are different now. There’s still so much left to talk about, but Monica is sixteen now and you think maybe she deserves to be a part of it too, so perhaps it can wait until tomorrow. You tell Maria this, and the way she smiles at you is so fond, so full of love, that you think for the hundredth time today about burning your uniform and staying grounded forever.

You don’t. You can’t, and you know it. You’ve known this whole time how Maria felt, but hearing her say it aloud breaks something in you and every time you catch her eye or she kisses your cheek, you’re filled with guilt and dread and you realise that even now, despite her reassurance, you’re still worried she’s going to tell you that you shouldn’t come back again. You’re not scared of much, but you’re scared of Maria rejecting you, and from everything you’ve remembered and the blanks she’s filled in for you, you know that’s been true since the second you laid eyes on her.

The first time you met, you’d told her you loved her. It was meant to be a joke, something light-hearted and dumb because she’d saved you from embarrassing yourself in front of some idiot flyboy in orientation, but it had somehow had weight to it that left it hanging in the air once it left your lips, and you’d immediately known it wouldn’t be the last time you spoke those words to her. Your memories are still somewhat hazy in certain spots, but what’s clear is that Maria Rambeau had you, right from the word go. Monica is perhaps the only person to have captured your heart quicker, and only because you adored her before you ever met her. You know that you lived without them for six years, without even a memory of them, and you know that you still spend most of your days without them, but you have no idea what you’d do if they were to turn around and tell you they didn’t want you any more.

You cling to Maria like it might be the last time you ever see her, like you’re making up for lost time and you’re burning the memory into your brain, and she knows exactly what you’re doing but doesn’t say a word. You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. But you kiss her with everything you have, you chant her name over and over, you take advantage of Monica not being there and are exactly as loud and as uninhibited as you need to be, and you don’t want it to feel final, you want it to feel like a promise. The problem is that you’re not sure what you’re promising.

You could promise more time. To try and be back more than twice a year, to try and come back for longer than a weekend. Truthfully, you think Talos and the Skrulls would be okay with that, things are a little more stable now and they have a communicator, so maybe they could spare you, but you know how long it takes to get back to them, and you know how much damage the Kree could do in that time. You could give them a communicator, maybe, or find a way to replicate your technology from Hala, so they can do more than just page you in an emergency. But your intention was always to let them live their lives as normal when you’re not here, and you don’t want to seem demanding. Maybe you’ll ask Monica tomorrow, ask them both when they’re together. You don’t think they’d say no to being able to speak to you even when you’re not on C-53, but you also know it’s a poor substitute for actually having you here.

You know you’ll struggle to sleep tonight, so you try to encourage Maria to drift off, but your guess is that she’s just as wired about this whole situation as you are, and you can feel her thinking next to you even before she speaks.

“Where’s your head at?” It’s comforting and heart-shattering all at once.

“Right here, with you.”

“And when you’re not lying?”

“Still here, with you.”

“Okay. So let’s talk. I doubt either of us is sleeping much tonight.” It takes so much effort to just roll onto your side to face her, and there’s still pain in her eyes, so you wonder if you shouldn’t have even tried it. Usually you’d make a joke, you’d flirt and say that there are other, more fun ways, for the two of you to stay up all night. You can’t right now, but the smile that ghosts over her lips tells you that she knows what you’re thinking, so it’s not really surprising when she kisses you oh so fucking softly and just for a second, you feel yourself melting into nothingness. Something about Maria’s kisses sparks you, it always has. When Maria kisses you, you know you can do anything. You just hope that’s still the case.

“I was thinking. What if there was a way I could figure out a two-way communicator? On Hala, the Kree, they all have this little holographic communicator built in to their suits. If I could work out a way to replicate the technology but close out the lines, so it would be secure, I could give one to you guys and we’d still be able to communicate in the times that I’m away? I probably wouldn’t have it ready for another half-rotation or so, but it would mean that maybe we could still speak, even when I can’t be here? But I… I don’t know if you’d want that. I mean, not if you want to speak to me but if it would somehow make things worse? Or if it’s asking too much of you to…”

“Asking too much of us?”

“I mean, we said that my not being here shouldn’t impact your lives too badly, right? That you weren’t going to sit around and wait for me, and that’s not what I want. So I don’t know if expecting you to stay in regular contact falls in there, too?”

“Baby.”

“No, I’m serious. I miss you guys every second that I’m gone and it’s not that I doubt you miss me, because I don’t, I just wonder if it’s reasonable to ask for this or if I should let you carry on as normal.”

“I absolutely want a two-way communicator, Danvers. And Monica will flip at the very idea, I swear.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Carol, we love you. We love you more than anything and I can’t imagine a world in which I wouldn’t want to be able to talk to you more often?”

“I could set it up so we could write messages, as well as the holographic thing? That way we could maybe schedule calls, or it just means we can still keep in touch when one of us is busy?”

“That sounds beyond perfect, baby. You think you can do that?”

“It’s pretty simple, actually. The technology is advanced for C-53 but it’s incredibly basic for Hala, if I had the tools I could’ve probably made it before I even left this week but I’ll need some parts I don’t think you can get here.”

“How long were you planning to stay this time?”

“It’s Friday, right?” She nods, and you hadn’t really thought about it at all, just assumed you’d leave Monday morning after Monica leaves for school, like you have the last few times. “I can probably stick around a while, Wednesday maybe?” You’re not sure where Wednesday came from but screw it, it’s a step toward trying to be better and you need this right now.

“Monica has a thing Tuesday? She won a science fair or like, seven, and so now she gets to present her project at a state competition, you want to come?”

Your heart flutters, just a little, and you thank whatever part of your brain that decided on _Wednesday_ because you probably wouldn’t have even known about this otherwise, but now you’re going to get to watch your genius kid do her thing, and you’ll be there as Auntie Carol, sure, but you’re still going to cheer her on like her Mama. You hope, with every fibre of your being, that getting to talk to them more will mean you’ll be able to stay in the loop on these things. Four days every six months doesn’t leave a lot of time for anything other than big updates, and Monica’s sixteen, so her important life updates are not necessarily the things you want to ask, but maybe if she’s free to message you whenever she likes, you’ll hear more about school and friends and ugh, maybe sixteen-year-old dating updates and less about movies you’ll probably never get to see and bands you might have liked if you were around.

Life is going to be a lot in the next few rotations, you know that. Monica will be going to college, and by the sounds of things, it’s going to be a good one. You think maybe she really is trying to get to space one day, like she told Fury, and you’re so proud of her but the implications bring the lump back to your throat, so you shake it off.

“Of course I want to come! Good thing she got your brains.”

“Definitely wasn’t me who put that love of the stars in her.”

“Still. She’s smart, she’s beautiful, she’s awesome. I’m glad she’s basically one hundred percent a mini-Maria.”

“No mini about it! She’s my height. Maybe even taller. I’ll take credit for that beauty, but I think the rest is pretty evenly split between us.”

You want to protest, because how can you have really had such an influence on a kid who grew up without you more than with you, but Maria seems so happy about it that for once in your life, you don’t have any fight left in you.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Wow. Did you just Han Solo me?”

“I love you too.”

“I hope so.”

It’s never, ever going to be easy, and you know that. Maybe these extra two days with them are going to make it even harder to leave, maybe Maria could still tell you not to come back. There’s a million possibilities. Monica might not want the communicator, might not want to talk to you, might not even want you at her presentation. A part of your brain is still yelling at you to stay on C-53, and let the Skrulls fight without you. Let Earth and every other goddamn planet fight their own battles while you live the life you hope you deserve with Maria and Monica.

Really, though? There’s still only one way this can go. You leave. You fight. You come back. You leave again. You hope, through everything, that you always have somewhere to come back and shower off the alien blood.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here are a bunch of other ways to find me on the internet if you want to yell at me or maybe talk about Endgame which I have seen but am not gonna spoil for anyone.](https://linktr.ee/hellororyg)


End file.
